We Are Stronger Than We Think
by theSoundofLiterature
Summary: 3X14 Spoilers. Where do we go from here? Rachel, Quinn and New Directions from the accident onward.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **There are a lot of these post 3X14 fics go around. My own probably seems unoriginal, but I needed to write _something_. But because of all of the somber fics running around (they're all amazing of course) I wanted to know if anybody would be interested if I continued this? It wouldn't be long, probably three chapters. But would people be interested if I continued?

**A/N 2:** And thanks for stopping by and checking it out. Also, not beta'd. So all mistakes are mine. And I also do not own Glee or its characters. If I did, then we may not have been in this dilemma with 3X14 (although if any of you have read "Trauma" than that kind of isn't true...my first fic and I put them both in a car crash, what!) Anyway back on topic. Thank you all again, you're all great.

* * *

><p><span>February 17<span>th, 4:14pm

"QUINN WHERE ARE YOU?"

Rachel can feel her fingers trembling as she types out a reply. Everyone's eyes are on her, and she can feel all of their gazes boring into her back like a heavy weight. She just wants to wait. Just a little bit longer. The clock ticks on the wall nearby, and she shuts her eyes, letting her phone drop to the seat in front of her. Kurt looks over sympathetically, and Tina smiles. She would smile back if she didn't suddenly feel so wrong.

"C'mon Rachel, our time is almost up. If we're gonna do this, it has to be now." He's worried about their time slot. She can see his shoulders tensing beneath his borrowed tuxedo. And she wants to tell him that it will all be all right, but she simply doesn't know. She needs more time. Quinn promised her she would be there, and she needs today to be perfect. She needs to be able to turn around at the altar and settle her eyes on grounding hazel – to know – that she's done right. That she's made the right choice after all.

But another minute ticks by and she can hear Santana and Mercedes sighing behind her. They've all become impatient, and everything has suddenly spiraled out of Rachel Berry's control.

"_Please_, she told me she'd be here."

She's near tears. She can feel the lump in her throat rising, and the prickling of tears behind her eyelashes. She'll ruin Carol's make-up job, she can already feel the mascara eclipsing her lower lashes and running a murky line down her suddenly hot cheeks. This isn't how today was supposed to happen. They were supposed to win Regionals, and then celebrate her wedding – as a family. And one of their own has suddenly been left behind. And she can't explain the emptiness that she feels at the loss.

With every second that blonde hair doesn't appear from behind wooden doors – she feels her heart breaking that much more. And as Finn smiles at her, trying to reassure her – she smiles back weakly. She can't let them see her fear, or her disappointment. Her bridesmaids follow behind her as their party makes their way to the Justice of the Peace. The bouquet of Gardenias in her hand suddenly feels much too heavy.

"Are you ready?"

He squeezes her hand, trying to comfort her. And she nods. She doesn't pay attention as her gaze drops again. She turns her head to the side to look down the long hallway that leads to the front of the building. And there is no blonde, or hazel eyes, or rosy cheeks in sight. And everything that she has left – is suddenly swept up into the stifling air. A hand comes to rest on her shoulder, and she looks up into calculated blue-grey eyes. Kurt. He reads her so easily nowadays. And for once – she's actually thankful. He gives her another squeeze as he pockets her cellphone into his dress pants. And he leans in close to whisper into her ear.

"Don't worry…she'll come. I'll keep you posted."

And she wants to sob, and bury him in her arms. Because somehow, Kurt Hummel understands – but she can't do that, instead she nods once. Bringing up a hand to wipe the collection of moisture at the tips of her eyes, before Finn pulls her past ornate wooden doors and down a marble hallway. She's enclosed in a small bubble of her closest friends and family, on her way to the happiest moment of her life. But with every step, and every progression down marble flooring – she feels her heart breaking just a little bit more with every passing second.

And a trail of the shattered pieces are all that she has left…and all that she'll remember.

* * *

><p><span>February 17<span>th, 4:15pm

"QUINN WHERE ARE YOU?"

The words are black, and loud on her screen. It's almost like she can hear Rachel yelling at her through the device. And she would smile, if she weren't running so late. So much for shortcuts, she thinks. It was on a whim that she turned down Davis instead of going her usual route into town via Fordham. But Davis is one long strip. It passes farmland and borders the outskirts of the Lima Township. But it's much faster than Fordham, and all of the traffic lights that no doubt would be in her way.

She can smell the crops and manure, even though her windows are closed. And if she weren't used to it, she would grimace for sure. But this is Ohio, and things like this are normal. She shouldn't be picking up her cell phone. She's completely aware of the increased danger of texting while driving. But there is no by-law for it in this state. And just this once…she needs to reply.

Because she will be there. She may not be happy with the outcome of this situation, but she needs to know that Rachel is happy. Her heart has already been ripped to pieces over the last few months…and although it will hurt her more than heal her to bear witness to her emotional future as it dwindles down the drain. She's doing this for Rachel, and Rachel deserves her well wishes. No matter how uninspired they may actually be.

57mph… the speed limit on Davis is 60, and she knows that she isn't being foot heavy on the accelerator. She lets it coast and grabs for the cell phone. Just this once…and she can feel her fingers tap out against the screen, writing out an assurance that she holds to be true. She's ten minutes away. _She'll be there_, for no one else but Rachel Berry. _She'll be there_.

"ON MY WAY"

She hears it before she sees it. At the intersection of Davis and Greene. She can hear the squelch of screeching tires, before she turns her head. And she knows that something is wrong. A car honk signals in the air between her as her thumb hits "SEND" and as her eye catches the road sign at the intersection she's just sped through. She realizes that she completely over thought her distance. She thinks she has time to hit the brakes, maybe reverse. She still hasn't seen the vehicle – she won't know until later that it's a Ford F350, with a raised suspension.

And just as the fear clenches at her heart strings, and the ringing in her ears grows unbearably louder – she thinks that maybe – she won't be making it the wedding after all.

The moment that metal clashes with the small metal of her VW bug…is almost surreal. Her vision spirals, and she can feel the car flipping and tossing with the inertia of contact. And there is pain _everywhere_. She can hear the crunch of glass as it hits her eardrums, and as her world tumbles around her, and her body breaks in ways that aren't at all natural – the only thought that crosses her darkening mind is…

"Rachel…_I'll be there_…please don't start without me. _I'll be there_."

* * *

><p><span>February 17<span>th, 4:42pm

They missed their time slot. By five minutes.

And as they all sit in the lobby waiting for Finn to see if they can get a new time for the afternoon, Rachel sinks. She folds into her chair and her heart aches. She feels guilty – for pulling everyone through this. She can't wipe away the disappointment etched across Finn's face as they were told that their time had officially run out.

But she won't let him know, that she feels even worse – because Quinn still has not made it. And while it pains her to be the reason for this failed extravangza, she doesn't believe that she could have done it without the blonde anyway. And she can't even begin to understand what that means. She can see Finn walking out from the lobby desk with a smile on his face. He's holding a small slip of paper – and Rachel can feel her heart sink even farther into her chest. She just wants to rip of her dress to pieces, and run home. She wants to cry on top of her bed – she's heartbroken and she doesn't understand _why_.

"Good news. One of the couples cancelled an hour ago. They've got an opening at 5:45. Which is in an hour."

She should be smiling – but she can't. She raises her head and casts a glance at all of her family surrounding her. It seems that it's not only her who's been affected by Quinn's absence. She can see the worry on Mercedes, Sam and Santana's faces. She can feel it in her own. And a sense of foreboding has consumed the few of them in this beautiful lobby. Because all of a sudden – something feels completely wrong. She asks Kurt for her cellphone again and he pulls it out of his pocket sadly. There are no new messages. And when she calls Quinn's number, she gets nothing. Just static. There's no dial tone, or signal failure. But a flurry of white noise that crushes her more than anyone could possibly know. Because that isn't _natural_. And as the cold settles around her, she knows that something has gone terribly wrong.

And almost eerily, her fears are reassured. The phone rings like background noise, grabbing all of their attention. There's no way to describe how it feels, to know that you're world is crumbling around you. Rachel Berry would never be able to understand where she went wrong. Sue Sylvester clears her throat as she retrieves her cell phone from her track suit pocket. And Rachel can see the way her eyebrows furrow together at whoever must be calling – she looks almost…is that shock? And when she raises the cell phone to her ear. The silence in the room engulfs them all, as they listen unabashedly.

"Sylvester."

"Judy. It's good to hear from you again, it's –"

And her words die off into the air. A frown replaces the indifference once framing her lips. And as they all watch mist begin to form in those cold eyes. They know the world as they know it has ended. Because Sue Sylvester cries for no one, and Rachel already knows who's at the end of that line. But that only makes it hurt worse.

"I understand. Everyone's here, I'll let them know. Some of us will meet you there…Judy, _please_ keep me posted."

The phone call ends and all of the parents look on with confusion. She can see the etchings of worry cross Carol Hudson-Hummel's face – because she knows Judy. And she knows Quinn, and perhaps it's a mother's intuition. But she can feel the foreboding in the air, and Rachel has the sudden urge to run into her arms. Instead she's left sitting on her chair, with a billowing white gown engulfing her. Surrounded by bridesmaids and groomsmen who are just now beginning to feel the fear rattle their bones.

"What's wrong?"

Finn has never been the brightest. And as his innocent words ring through the silence, they watch as Sue turns away, shielding them all from her face as she absolutely breaks. And they watch as Will Schuester goes to her, whispering into her ear. And as she whispers back – they watch his mouth open into a blood curdling "O". And they don't miss the glistening in his eye as he turns around to face his students and their parents. He looks like he might fall from the weight of his grief. Perhaps he will.

"Quinn…" He brushes at his eyes as he lets one of his hands curl up into a fist and hit the wall with a soft thud. " Quinn, uh…she…she's been in an accident."

Santana is the first to rise out of her chair, her words are venomous, angry – but all of them know it's because she's hurting. And she doesn't know what to do, or how to confide in anyone else besides Brittany.

"What the fuck does that mean Mr. Schue…?" When she doesn't get an answer she turns her words over to Coach Sylvester. "Sue?" And this time, she whispers…her voice breaking on the lone syllable. All of her anger replaced by pain, and uncertainty – Rachel feels like she understands. Rachel feels like she'll die from the sudden pang of grief in her chest. And whatever is left of her heart, bursts into flames and falls to the floor between her trembling feet as she falls to her knees on the marble floor – scuffing her white dress as she bows her head down to the marble, letting the tears drip onto the cool surface.

"That was Judy Fabray. Quinn was on her way here…for the wedding. She was hit by a truck at the intersection of Davis and Greene. T-Boned on the driver's side. She's on her way to Lima General now in an ambulance. All we know is that she's in critical condition. Nothing else."

And as the words sink in. One by one they fall like flies. And no one comes for Rachel, who has already broken on the floor – because they're all breaking too. She doesn't know how long she lies there, with her face pressed into the marble. But at some point she feels strong arms lift her from the ground and cradle her, as she's carried out into bright sunlight, and shuffled into the backseat of a waiting car.

"Sweetheart, eyes on me okay. Keep your eyes on me." Burt Hummel. He clicks her seatbelt in place before running to the driver's side door. She doesn't notice her father's sitting in the other seats. One of them ushering in Noah Puckerman. They don't comment on the way he slams his fists into the window, breaking his knuckles before he lets his face fall between his lap. They don't say anything because they're struggling too – and they'll clean the blood off of the window later today without another word. Because the wounds are too fresh now.

And Rachel listens to Mr. Hummel. Her would be father-in-law. She levels her pooling eyes with his, and she wants to scream, she wants to give up as the car accelerates. But she keeps them on the rearview mirror as the sobs escape her throat. She leaves them on Burt Hummel – so that she won't lose herself entirely.

* * *

><p><span>February 17<span>th, 5:30pm

The emergency room is full, and rank with the smell of sterilization and illness. She almost vomits. The news of Quinn's status has come in small blurts and texts. She still has no use of her legs as she sits down in a waiting room chair. Burt had to carry her in. She passed by the smeared blood on the window and paled, turning her head away as she was carted into the large EMERGENCY double doors. Everyone else is worse for wear. Brittany is probably the worst, behind Rachel, Noah, Santana, and Mercedes. Because Brittany is almost a vessel for all things empathetic – and when she breaks, you can see a little bit of heaven breaking along with her. And it's a wonder that Santana has managed to stay so strong. She shushes her in Spanglish mutterings as Brittany sobs brokenly into her neck as Santana's silent tears fall, un-cached down her cheeks.

Noah was wheeled to his own room in the ER to repair his broken hand. He returns within the hour with a pain medication prescription and full hand cast. No one says anything when he toys with a small picture in one of his hands. The short blonde curls are unmistakable, and his tears are unmentioned as he flips the photograph of Beth between the fingers of his good hand. Blessing over the Cross of David that lingers hidden around his neck.

Somewhere a phone rings. It's Sue's again. But no one is particularly concerned. As her hoarse voice trills through the waiting room – the dread simply sinks in further.

"She's in surgery. Judy says…she doesn't know how long, possibly until morning."

"This is all my fault."

The words escape her lips before she can reel them back in. And Finn comes to her to wrap her up in a hug. She pushes him off roughly, the fresh tears stinging her eyes.

"Don't. Finn, _don't_."

"Rachel, you can't blame yourself. No one knew –" Kurt, his broken voice rippling around her fuzzy head. But he's wrong. This _is_ her fault. It always has been – it was her wedding, her decision. Her heart that seems to have nothing left to bear beneath her ribcage. It's her heart that feels heavy with the truth of the matter. And as she looks at Finn solemnly, she sees that young boy that could never really make her happy. And as she stares down the long Hospital corridor at the passing doctors and RN's…she understands. That amidst all of the hurt and all of the pain, there is a pulse left. And it does not beat for Finn Hudson, it never has. All that's left for her to hold on to, is Quinn Fabray.

And she prays for that pulse to keep on beating. She hopes that mercy is not too late.

* * *

><p><span>February 18<span>th, 2:34am

9 hours. That's how long Quinn's been in surgery. The hospital has a completely different feel once the sun descends over Lima City Limits. It almost feels peaceful. And while visiting post-hours prohibits more than four people per patient. She's content that she's still here. She stares blankly ahead at a nearby wall, the groove of her bare feet touching the floor. Her dads went home and brought her back sweatpants and a zip up hoodie to change into. The white dress is probably lying over her comforter in her bedroom. She feels like burning it.

Judy sleeps against one of the recliners by the wall. The woman looks sallow and weary – Rachel can't even comprehend how it must feel as a parent, to watch your child through their suffering – unsure of what the future could possibly hold for either of them. Noah nods off against the wall. He sits on the floor, cradling his broken hand – the bags under his eyes are deep and unnaturally dark. And to Rachel's left sits Mercedes. It was either her or Brittany and Santana. And Brittany fell asleep, so Santana took her home. And Rachel isn't sure how to console Mercedes, when she's irrevocably broken herself.

It would be funny in different circumstances when at 3:12am a Doctor Ford walks around the bend of the hallway to the small group of family and friends. He loos tired and weary – and Rachel is the only one awake when he makes his appearance, as if the news of Quinn's fate is only for her. She wakes everyone silently as the Doctor stands patiently to the side. Judy startles awake, suddenly alert as she bores her similarly hazel eyes into the waiting doctors.

"I'm Doctor Ford. Judy, I've already spoken with you. But I do have news, now that we have some answers. Quinn just was just released from surgery fifteen minutes ago. She's in recovery in the ICU for now – but if things get better, she could be relocated to a normal recovery room in just over a week. As you all know she was involved in a motor vehicle accident – her injuries range from minor cuts, lacerations, contusions, and abrasions …to extremely severe. "

Rachel pales; she can feel her fingers twitching in her lap as the tears build up behind her eyelids.

"Quinn sustained an extension fracture pattern near the lumbar region of her spine. In layman's terms – she has a severe fracture to her lower back – In surgery we placed pins and rods in, to help with the healing. And she'll be in a brace for 6-12 weeks. Her jaw was fractured in the accident, we inserted metal plates to set the bones, and her mouth will be wired shut for 6-8 weeks, while she maintains a fluid diet. She also suffers from two lower rib fractures on the left side of her ribcage. She has a severe concussion with slight pressure on her brain, which we've treated with osmotherapy. She's still at risk, but is slowly improving. Her left femur is broken, and she has a torn ACL. For now she's in a medically induced coma until her brain swelling lowers to normal levels, and edema is no longer present – at this rate, we're looking at two days. And while she still will have use of her legs and her back…her recovery won't be easy. She'll have extensive physical therapy and it could be months before she regains her ability to walk again. It won't be easy, I'm letting you know now."

"But she'll be okay?"

"Yes…I believe so Ms. Fabray. With time."

* * *

><p><span>February 21<span>st, 5:56pm

She's already missed three days of school. Her perfect attendance record is unceremoniously shot to hell. And she couldn't give any less of a damn. It's disheartening really how the world keeps turning, when it feels like yours is falling apart. The news spread like wildfire through the halls of McKinley, and all she's witnessed is cruelty, and pity – where it definitely isn't deserved. Because out of the entire student body, who actually cared about the quiet blonde and her fall from grace? Nobody. In fact, they mocked her. And Rachel knows – that if she sets foot back into that school, and hears the spiraling rumors about Quinn – she'll hit something, or someone. And she doesn't need another suspension on her school record.

Instead she waits. She spends her days at Lima General. She's there when Judy can't be around in the early mornings and afternoons – and she picks up the broken pieces of her heart every day that Quinn recovers. It's the best she can do for now – and it doesn't hurt nearly any less. She stares blankly at a veggie lasagna and cradles her face into her hands in the middle of the bustling, dreary cafeteria. She won't be able to keep this up for very much longer – this hope. And every once in a while, she can't stop her resolve from tumbling down into the floor. She feels that way now as sobs rack her slight body. Her tears drip down her cheeks and land in her lasagna. It's okay – she won't be eating it anyway. It's unimaginable how quickly guilt can consume you. It eats away at your very soul – and Rachel can feel it twining around her already shattered heart, welding into it unrelentingly. And she just wishes—that she had listened to Quinn from the start.

She should have _listened._

Instead she's sitting at an empty table in the cafeteria at Lima General. Nursing soggy veggie lasagna and an apple juice. And she couldn't possibly feel any more alone. She needs answers, she needs questions, she needs life to continue and not leave her behind in the wreck that it's made. She hasn't eaten in three days, Noah broke another window, Brittany is unimaginably broken – and Santana can barely hold the both of them together anymore. Kurt is like a zombie walking through the halls – he's witnessed so much in such a short week – and Rachel would be there for him if her own life weren't so full of hard rocks and rubble. She has yet to dig herself out of the debris.

Everyone is spiraling out of control. And to top it all off – Finn is not who she thought he would be. She looks at him now and all she sees is a burden. They called off the wedding the morning that Quinn got out of surgery. Rachel asked for a separation by the next afternoon. And as she wallows in her newly single, guilt ridden solitude – she knows she's finally made the right decision.

Perhaps Quinn would finally have something to be proud of when she wakes..._if_ she wakes. And as Rachel stabs her fork back into the wobbly lasagna she sees the lab coat of a familiar Doctor Ford descending down on her like a regal messenger. She doesn't look up – she needs no more bad news.

But as he lays down a white paper onto the table in between them, she lets her heavy eyes graze over the large shorthand letters that have been written there in permanent marker. The script is loopy and short – and resembles a rare form of chicken scratch – she would comment on Doctor Ford's poor penmanship if not for the two words that rip through her like blinding saw. They pierce her in ways that she could have never imagined. And she isn't sure if she'll be able to move. Her eyes rake over the words again and again, and when she raises her head Doctor Ford is smiling at her tiredly. And she owes everything to this man as her motor skills finally return, and she feels her feet flying ahead of her as she races for the nearest elevator. The loopy words playing like an old filmstrip across her retinas as her loafers skid over pristinely tiled flooring.

"She's Awake."

_My God, she's AWAKE._

* * *

><p><span>February 21<span>st, 5:36pm

There are no manuals for this kind of a thing. She doesn't know the protocol. How do you re-learn yourself after a life-changing traumatic event? How can you, when everything feels so foreign?

The I.V. in her hand stings, there are wires connected to her everywhere, and she feels…she feels like a science project gone wrong. The air is too thick, and it's incredibly hard for her to breath, she wants to rip the breathing tube out of her nostrils…but she's too weak. It's not like she could move her arm anyway – it feels like a lead weight, the cast doesn't help. And _everything_ hurts. The world is an interesting place…it looks like one thing, and it meets certain expectations. But after a sudden shift, it's incredibly disorienting. Unfortunately not everything can remain in color.

Her mind had coiled and burned and rolled while she suffered under the coma, and it had all started to become unbearable. She felt like she was swimming in a deep abyss with no means to an end. And as she finally began to break deep waters – she could feel her eyes fluttering to an open. They broke through the surface, and the bright lights of resolution blinded her sensitive eyes. And now when she tries to speak, her larynx hurts, and her jaw clenches painfully with the pressure of her failed attempts at willing it to move. She can still taste blood on her tongue, and with the tip of it she can feel wires and bands clenching her teeth to a close. She tries to speak, but nothing will move. She works her throat sadly; the smallest of whimpers escaping…_what happened to me?_ She thinks, and suddenly she's assaulted with the last memory that her brain has on call.

_Rachel's wedding._

She wants to sit up, so she can make it. So she can be there if not for anything else but support. It's heartbreaking – enough so that she isn't sure she'll ever sleep a tireless night without Rachel Berry flooding her mind and her senses. But all she wants is Rachel's happiness. And if that happiness comes with Finn Hudson? Then so be it. She feels her limbs struggling weakly against the constraints of the bed she's on, as her eyes water from the light.

Steady hands grip her, and she wonders when everything started hurting so badly. And why she can't feel her legs. _Why can't she feel her legs? _It feels like a white hot rod's been placed on her back. And it burns as if it were casted within the depths of Hell itself. The barest of shifting, flares pain into her nerves and tears escape her clenched eyelashes as she clenches her broken jaw.

"Mfwt…"

"Quinn? You're okay. Don't speak honey, it will hurt more."

She rolls her eyes and tries to nod her head. And god dammit, that hurts too. She wants to give up. She doesn't even know what's gone wrong, but she already wants to give up on trying. She can hear the sound of numerous people shuffling around her, and after God knows how long, different voices permeate the thick air. And she would look up from where she's laying if she could. But that won't be happening anytime soon. Instead she manages heavy breaths, and the relief of hearing her mother's voice floods through her.

"Oh, Quinnie."

She hasn't re-opened her eyes, but she can hear the anguish lacing that familiar tongue. She wishes she could hide. She doesn't want to see her own face reflected in the eyes of her mothers. But she opens her weary hazel eyes nonetheless, and tries for a smile. It doesn't work, and it hurts beyond belief, she wants to cry all over again.

"You're okay, darling…you're okay."

"Mmmf…"

"Quinnie…don't talk. Listen to the nurses, _please..._Did anybody tell you what happened?"

Quinn shakes her head even though it hurts to do so. And she watches her mother turn away, wiping errant tears from her cheeks before turning back around with a crooked watery smile. She's trying to lighten the mood; it doesn't work.

"You were in a car accident…"

Judy's voice cracks, and this time she doesn't bother wiping away the tears as she clears her throat to continue.

"Um…on your way to Rachel's wedding. You didn't make it. They-They've been saying. Well, Doctor Ford, your doctor…they've said that you've broken your back. They placed steel rods in during surgery. A-and…uh, you broke your leg, and a few ribs, you have a torn ACL. You had swelling of the brain, and you have a concussion. A broken jaw…it's wired shut. And an array of cuts and bruises… they say that there's a possibility that you may not walk again…but you're already showing progress Quinnie…and with physical therapy, Doctor Ford thinks you'll make a full recovery."

Judy is near hysterics by the end of it. And Quinn doesn't blame her. She must look like minced meat. She wishes she could hug her mother and tell her that everything will be alright. But she can feel the tears falling down her swollen cheeks – she can taste the disappointment and the collapse of her future in the air. And she isn't sure that she has it in her. Not when she's so broken herself.

And before she can wallow in self-pity, soft footsteps fall in the room and Judy is rising out of the chair by Quinn's bed to be replaced by a familiar short brunette. And Rachel Berry doesn't look so weary. But she looks _tired_, and she looks like she's been carrying a heavy burden on her heart. She looks like she's just about giving up – and Quinn hates seeing that on Rachel Berry's face more than anything else in the world.

"You're Awake."

"I know you can't talk. Your jaw… but I –"

Her words die off into silent tears as she reaches for the tender skin of Quinn's cheek. Her thumb trails some of the scratches there from the glass. And Quinn watches her as she places a soft kiss where her thumb once resided. When she pulls back up her eyes are clear, and she lowers her chin to her chest to take in a shaky breath. And when she finally gains the composure to look back up, her voice is broken and whisper soft.

"I thought I'd lost you Quinn…I thought I'd never see your face again. And I don't know what I would have done without you. It's _my fault_ that you're here…but – I'm, I'm _so happy_ that you're _alive_. You're more important to me than you know..."

And Quinn would smile if she could. If only Rachel Berry knew…if only she knew that she's it for Quinn. She's everything and more. And none of this is her fault. But instead. All Quinn can do is lie still on a small hospital bed and soak in all of the emotion. And as Rachel threads her fingers through Quinn's silky hair, she hums a silent tune. And Quinn begins to nod off again – and remarkably, amid all of the broken and shattered remains of her frail body, she can still feel the solid pang of her heartbeat – strong and sure.

And she knows, that it only beats for Rachel Berry – perhaps she's the reason she's pulled through all along. Apparently hearts are much stronger than we know.

And as the morphine drip and steady motion of fingers across her scalp lull her back into a hazy sleep, a tug of a smile works it's way across her face, broken jaw be damned.

And she swears... That just as the realm of consciousness escapes her, she can feel the faintest touch of warm lips graze the corner of her mouth before descending to her ear. Rocking her into rest.

"Sleep, my Quinn." It hums, and she obeys. Her heartbeat pounding thickly beneath her broken ribcage – and perhaps…

…not all is lost.


	2. Chapter 2

******A/N: **Thanks for reading. I'm glad you guys are enjoying this short little story. It isn't much, but I hope it quells some of the Faberry feels we won't be able to mend anyway during the hiatus. But good news, almost one week down! 6 more to go... (ugh). Anyway, if you like...tell me what you think of this chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><span>February 22<span>nd, 10:32am

Rachel feels out of place as she watches the Glee Club arrive in pairs and singles throughout the early morning visiting hours. She's been here since the accident, only going home for showers and changes of clothes. Her father's have tried to convince her to leave, to eat…to _breathe._ But she can't. Not when she's away.

Instead she sits in a chair in the far corner of Quinn's private room, staring at the blonde with drooping eyes. She's even more tired than she thought. She folds her legs up under her in the uncomfortable chair, and wraps her arms around her body as she lets her head fall back against the white painted wall. Quinn is heavily drugged, and she's sleeping – no one will bother either one of them now. She's wrong…within fifteen minutes a nurse walks into the quiet room, ushering in Noah Puckerman and Beth Corcoran.

_Beth Corcoran_.

This is the first time Rachel is seeing the baby. She never made it to the hospital for the birth, and now that she and Shelby aren't on the closest of terms - she hasn't brought herself to make a visit. And when she sees the mohawked boy cart in his daughter cradled in his strong arms, the immediate shock rustles her out of sleep, and she just wants to _cry…_because Beth is beautiful, and she looks just like her mother.

She turns her misty wide-brown eyes on the sleeping girl and holds back a sob. She hates seeing all of the protruding wires, and large casts. She hates seeing Quinn so broken, all of it at her own hand. And as the seconds tick by silently, she jumps when she feels a strong hand fall on her shoulder, and when she looks up Noah is looking down at her with sadness and worry across his face. She turns up teary eyed and he gives her a crooked smile.

"Do you – do you want to hold her while I…"

Rachel nods her head and genuinely smiles then. Reaching out her arms for the baby as Noah runs a trembling hand through his Mohawk as he takes a breath and approaches the bed.

Beth is both light and heavy in her arms, and she looks at the toddler in wonder, letting her eyes trace soft cheeks and incredibly long lashes… light blonde ringlets. She can already see the darkening roots at the center, and she knows that Beth won't be blonde for much longer. She cradles a small hand and bounces her on her lap softly, humming an unfamiliar tune into the cotton of her small hat. And through it all, Beth just watches her – with identical, yet smaller hazel eyes. And her tiny fingers trace absently over Rachel's necklace and her earrings, she points distractedly at her nose, and Rachel pretends to kiss the small finger. Beth smiles at the gesture and tries to stick her little fingers in Rachel's mouth – making her laugh.

And Rachel feels like maybe her world isn't quite so broken, with Quinn's daughter here in her arms. Reassuring her slowly that beautiful things do come out of unexpectedly dire circumstances. Beth Corcoran, is the perfect example of that. After a little bit, Beth settles down and her eyes fall closed as she rests her head on Rachel's chest, her pacifier hangs from a clip on her shirt, and Rachel moves it to her lips, watching with a smile as she grasps for it, settling down for a nap. And as time slows down yet again, Rachel lets her eyes rove over to the bed where Noah still sits. But as Rachel turns – she sees hazel eyes – larger this time staring back at her, and Noah's own light brown join in. He's looking at Rachel with a sad smile, and Quinn's eyes are just holding so much…_hope? Sadness?_

She isn't sure, but she smiles despite her fears. Happy to see Quinn awake. Happy to be able to fall under the spell of those captivating eyes once again. What would she have done if she would have never had the opportunity to see them again? She doesn't know. She doesn't want to know.

"Good morning Quinn. I missed those eyes."

And Rachel scoots out of her chair, careful of Beth's small sleeping form in her arms. And she slowly makes her way over to the other side of the bed, where Noah isn't sitting. She falls down into a chair there, and lets Quinn's eyes follow the entire movement. Hazel eyes don't leave Beth once. And as Rachel sits, she carefully brings the fingers of Quinn's right hand up within her own, and lets them fall into the softest curls she's ever felt. And the tears are there. In Quinn's eyes, running down her bruised cheeks – and although the words aren't there. The "Thanks" is, and Rachel feels breathless at the moment. She feels like maybe, she's done something right.

Noah stays for another fifteen minutes, he kisses Quinn's forehead softly before collecting Beth out of Rachel's arms. He promises he'll return, hopefully with their daughter again if Shelby permits it. And Rachel watches Quinn watch him go. There are still tears waiting to fall beneath those golden lashes, and Rachel doesn't know what compels her to inch forward and brush them away with the pads of her thumbs. It isn't until she's finished the gesture that she realizes the intimacy of the moment…and she blushes, hiding away from that curiously silent gaze with a sad smile.

Mercedes walks in within the hour, she has a bouquet of yellow and white daisies in her hands that she sets near the window. She smiles softly at Rachel before approaching Quinn's bedside.

"Hey, mama."

And as another half an hour passes, the silence isn't heavy. It's almost soothing as Mercedes sits there telling Quinn about her budding relationship with Sam. She laughs, she cries, she goes off on tangents about shoes – but all in all, the sparkle of joy in Quinn's soft eyes says it all. It's a visit well appreciated, and Rachel smiles from the corner, unwilling to intrude. By 11:57am Mercedes is gone, and Brittany is bouncing in on light feet with Santana holding her hand. They look tired too, almost as tired as Rachel. And the small brunette is grateful for their arrival; she knows that they would have stayed there just as long as her if they could. Brittany hurries over and gives her a tight hug, kissing her cheek softly as they depart. And oddly, Santana does the same – minus the cheek kiss – but her hug is long, and it's unexpected. And when she falls away there are the beginnings of tears in her eyes. And as Rachel stares between the two of them – she realizes that she's happy that Quinn has people like this in her life. No matter what any of them has gone through, they've stayed together, and they've never given up on one another.

Brittany kisses Quinn's cheek and her nose softly, smiling down at her brightly. Quinn blinks with bright eyes, slowly – as if she's trying to commit the image to memory. Santana is next, and she does something that Rachel isn't expecting – but none of this is unwanted at all. Rachel watches from the far corner of her little chair as Santana falls to her knees on the floor and grabs for Quinn's hands, holding them between her own as her thumbs rub over the tops carefully. She bows her shaking head and sniffles once before she begins a prayer from her faintly parted lips.

"Dios te salve, Maria.

Llena eres de gracia,

El Señor es contigo.

Bendito tü eres, entre todas las mujeres.

y bendito es el fruto de tu viente,

Jesús…

Santa Maria, madre de Dios,

ruega por nostros pecadores,

ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte.

Amén."

And there are tears in Rachel's eyes. They sting her cheeks as she watches with her lips parted – this simple act of faith. She isn't catholic, and she isn't Christian. She doesn't even know Spanish. But she can appreciate the beauty of the moment, and the reverence behind Santana's full words. And her heart is full of something she can't quite put any words to. But when she turns to look at Quinn, whose eyes are trained on her – she sees tears there, that aren't sad. But that possibly hold all of the answers.

Santana's head stays bowed against the blue sheets as Brittany rubs her back, and the brunette has broken in this hospital, her tears are silent, but they are felt by everyone in that small room – and Quinn is here. She is _alive_, and Rachel has so much hope bubbling up to the surface. She finally sees it there beneath her chest, filling the void that her shattered heart left in its wake. And she holds on to it, because they'll need it.

She needs it for Quinn.

And believe her when she says that she'll use it. She finally has all the hope in the world, and all of it, every last drop. Is for Quinn Fabray.

* * *

><p><span>February 27<span>th, 10:33pm

10 days.

It feels like an eternity, sitting here in this bed. If anything she feels worse than before. Possibly because they lowered the cc's of her morphine drip. She can barely get through the night the pain is so blinding. It makes the tears in her eyes fall to her pillow and drench it while she turns. She can't clench her jaw – that will only send a fresh wave of it to her nerve endings. She feels trapped in a broken body with no means of escape. The only thing holding her together is the small brunette who sits cradled up in her chair in the corner, her eyes closed and her breath shallow against the window upon which her head rests. Her breath fans out in small waves, misting across the cool glass. And Quinn is grateful that she's here. Whenever her mother can't make it late at night or in the afternoons, Rachel is here. She started eating again, and going back to school. She still looks tired, and much too thin – but Quinn can't have everything. Ever since the gleek's visit almost a week ago, she's seen light pass across those wide doe-eyes. And that light gives her hope – that maybe the future won't be so bleak for either of them.

She watches her faintly in her haze of pain and morphine drips. She lets that small victory aid her in her entrapment. She lets Rachel be that light at the end of the tunnel, that hand that guides her to shallow waters. She looks at Rachel and she sees hope, and love, and possibility. And her injuries don't feel quite so bleak. Her back not quite so broken, her leg un-casted. She imagines a grin toying on her lips, and she sees a smile despite the wires binding her jaw. And for now that's all she needs. She let's Rachel be her rock, and although she can't do much in return, she hopes that she is doing the same.

And so on nights like tonight, when the moon is full and her injuries mock her with their pain – she opens her eyes and let's them linger on the small, beautiful girl in the corner. And she doesn't feel quite so alone.

* * *

><p><span>March 9<span>th, 2:34pm

"It's almost been three weeks, you know that?"

Rachel has a smile on her face as she helps Quinn sit up in her bed. Her leg is still raised, and it's difficult with the back and rib braces, but the nurses taught her how to manage it relatively pain free for the blonde. She fluffs the pillows and pulls her hand back from the button release, sliding the tray table across Quinn's lap with a shy smile. Quinn's head is fully recovered now. And the blonde nods softly, a small tilt of her lips crossing her features.

The bruises are faded on her face. There are small cuts and little scrapes around her cheeks and her hairline, and she still has a small cut on her bottom lip, but as her short hair fans down unkemptly around her face – she's beginning to look like the old Quinn Fabray, and it makes Rachel happier than she could have ever known. By the beginning of week two, Quinn was strong enough to begin enunciating some words through the wiring. Now, it's normal, and Rachel has become well versed in "Quinn speak" as of late. She brings the lunch tray over to the tray table and sets down Quinn's apple juice, chicken broth and Ensure generic substitute. She grimaces at the display, not unknown to the amount of weight the blonde's lost as of late.

"Your meals always make me really upset Quinn, I understand that you're getting all of your required nutrients. But you must be starving under this hospital diet. I'm so sorry."

Quinn smiles sadly before picking up the apple juice in one of her hands. She brings it to her lips and sucks through the thin straw slowly, her eyes squinting so as to cause as little pain as possible. After a long moment she winks.

" 'S not so sbad Rachee."

Her words come out mumbled and strung together, heavy on the "S." And Rachel smiles, it's weird watching Quinn talk without moving her lips – maybe after this she could get a full time position as a ventriloquist. Either way, it makes her sound like Lord Voldemort, and the brunette can't help her shy smile every time that the words leave the blonde's lips during their visits. Quinn glares at her coolly – there is no real malice behind her hazel eyes however as Rachel hands over the blonde's chicken broth with a straw.

"I know what syou're shinking. I do shnot schound shlike Schlord Schlodemort…"

And this time Rachel has to laugh out loud. Quinn gives her a sort of halfway pout despite the circumstances, and the silence returns as Quinn continues her small lunch. Rachel turns back to her chair in the corner and pulls out her homework. Setting herself comfortably in the silence as the TV plays as a small background disturbance. Time passes softly between the two of them. These daily meetings making their once tentative friendship solid – it's like that feeling you get when you feel comfortable in silence, even though there are two of you in one room. Words aren't necessary filler for them anymore. And Rachel smiles as she flips the page of her APES textbook. Her eyes not exactly reading the page, and after another moment she hears shuffling from Quinn's side of the room. And when she looks up she sees that Quinn's finished her lunch, and her bright eyes are boring a hole into Rachel from where she rests in her hospital bed.

"What is it Quinn?"

The blonde looks nervous. Rachel watches her as she fidgets with her hands on her lap. But she holds the silence, waiting patiently for Quinn to make a move. One thing that Rachel can say she's learned about Quinn Fabray is that patience truly is key – in all aspects of the word. And so she waits, and she levels Quinn with wide eyes of her own – hoping to convey nothing if not care and acceptance.

"Why don't shoo wear shure engashment reeng anymore?"

The question comes as a shock to her. And she visibly shakes her head. She hasn't worn the ring since the day after Quinn's accident. She hasn't spoken to Finn since Quinn's accident. And she isn't exactly sure where there relationship lies, but from the way that he seems to be avoiding her as of late. It isn't too difficult for her to guess. But what surprises her most about this admittance, is that she isn't upset. She feels nothing for the boy who once stole her heart. Instead she stares back into inquisitive hazel eyes and she sees her heart resting there, between the bed and the floor – finally almost whole again. And she knows that she's never getting it back. It makes her blush and she turns her eyes away to collect herself so that she can give Quinn an answer that she deserves.

"Racheee…?"

"I broke up with Finn…the day after your accident and our original wedding. I handed back the ring, and told Finn that I didn't want it anymore. I didn't want _any _of it anymore. I've been here ever since. He hasn't spoken to me since then."

"S'my fault. I'm sorry."

"No…it isn't Quinn. You were never a factor. Sure you told me on multiple occasions that you didn't want me to get married. And at the time I thought I was being ill-advised. But looking back now…it was a mistake. And as horrible as it is seeing you here in the hospital now – something had to give. I was either going to wait for you until the end of time to march in and break us up yourself, or I was going to walk away because you weren't there…and here we are."

Rachel can see the way that Quinn swallows thickly. And she can see the shifting of her eyes until once again hazel meets brown. But there's an understanding that's passing between them in the silence. An understanding that is much too long overdue.

"Wat does sthat mean, Rachee? For usch."

And Rachel smiles. It's a bit watery and somewhat crooked, but she lets it engulf her nonetheless. And she doesn't even realize it when her feet start to move of their own accord. She only notices when she hears the scuffing of her penny loafers across the floor. She watches Quinn intently the entire time, and as she sits down in the chair next to Quinn's bedside, she takes Quinn's second apple juice and punches the straw through the top, bringing it up to the blonde's lips with a small tilt of her lips. She would laugh at the small blush creeping up Quinn's cheeks – because all she's doing is feeding her apple juice – but in this moment, the gesture seems wildly intimate, and Rachel hums softly before biting the corner of her bottom lip.

"I think you already know the answer to that, Quinn."

And when Quinn pulls Rachel's hand down by the wrist, to let the apple juice fall back onto the tray. She keeps her hold and tugs softly, ushering Rachel to hover over her slowly. And with her other hand, she catches sight of the thick hospital band in her peripheral before it disappears beneath chestnut waves to settle on a warm neck. She pulls down with a little bit of pressure, and Rachel lets the blonde guide her. She smiles into the disappearing space between them. And before she can open her mouth to make sure that this is what Quinn wants, she can already feel the softest of brushes touching her lips. It's short and sweet, and chaste. And there is no tongue or mal-intent. It's a promise of understanding. Perhaps a thank you…and a question for more…but as their lips separate and Rachel pushes away she can't help the shy smile that plays out on her lips. She brushes her tongue along the still tingling skin and can taste the faint traces of apple juice.

Rachel pulls up smiling, and moves to sit back down in her chair with her heart beating wildly in her chest. Quinn's got a shy smile toying on her lips and a rosy flush whispering across her skin. And Rachel knows that this wasn't a mistake – Rachel knows that she's done the right thing. That this is _right._

And as the air crackles between them, Rachel bites her lip and places the small juice box of apple juice back into Quinn's hand. She looks up brightly and bends over to kiss a still flushed cheek.

"Finish your apple juice Quinn, it'll get warm."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **It's been a busy few weeks for me at school, and haven't had time to write much of anything. But I'm back! and here's the next chapter of WASTWT, i hope you like it, it took a while for me.

**Chapter Three**:

March 28th, 11:20am

It's been five weeks.

They're moving you home soon, you can feel it in the air. It's almost like looking through a foggy glass window, and wiping your arm across the accumulated condensation. A small bubble of clarity, you hold on to it tightly. Sitting up in your bed, you stare at the rows and rows of flowers and "Get Well Soon" cards scattered across the desk in the corner. Some of the flowers have begun to wilt; your Mother has probably been too busy worrying over you to notice. You stare at one bouquet in particular, white lilies in a crystal vase. They are directly under the sunlight beneath the window, and are positioned in such a way that they are the first flowers you see when you wake up in the morning.

You hope that they're from Rachel.

March 28th, 11:42pm

"They're moving you soon."

You wiggle your upper body so that you're speaking into the skin of her neck. Your breath fans out across her shoulder and you feel her shiver slightly beneath you.

A week or so ago, Quinn decided that she was inclined for a massage. Which is impractical in her current predicament, and while you declined heartily to acquiesce. You discovered that you just can't say no to a disappointed Quinn, and within minutes you found yourself climbing cautiously up the bed, throwing the pillows onto the floor to sit behind her with your legs cradling hers on the outside of the railing. You let her sit within you, her head resting on your shoulder, and although you knew that it must have pained her to sit in that position for so long, you smiled back when she looked up at you. And you both didn't particularly mind.

And as it were, now that things have been set to motion, you can't say no. And you press your forehead softly against her naked shoulder blade as she lays her body against you. Your fingers toy with the strings of her hospital gown.

"I know."

You can see the scars in her lower back form her surgery, she still wears a brace, and it loops around her lower back and pelvis, settling around her hips. You wish that she didn't need it anymore. You wish for a lot of things.

"You don't sound like a snake today."

You feel her shrug her shoulders, and you know that she must be smiling. You can read her mannerisms and expressions so easily now. It's a wonder you never caught them sooner.

"Doctor said I get the wires off tomorrow. You can't call me Voldemort anymore."

"Irrelevant, you'll always be Voldemort."

She hasn't moved, but you can just tell that she's doing that cute little pouty face that she does, and you wish that you could turn her around in your arms to kiss it away. You settle for her neck instead, right below the wispy blonde baby hairs at her nape. Her skin is warm, and she smells like generic shampoo.

You feel her turn her head to the side, and you follow the motion, your lips still ghosting over the skin of her neck. She's staring out of the window into the night. You can see Orion through the glass, and you're about to point out Betelgeuse, the red giant, until you hear her voice. Soft and questioning, it feels like a lullaby.

"Hmm?"

"I said, do you see those lilies? …On the windowsill?"

You look down, away from the starry reflection of night and finally settle on what it is that she's alluding to. A vase of white lilies, they're almost incandescent in the moon's reflection. Looking at them now, you know they were the right choice. You brought them two nights ago while Quinn was sleeping; you smile into her back and nod.

"I do."

"They're beautiful. They're the first things that I see when I wake up. Delicate, and warm, illuminated. They remind me of you."

You can't help the small laugh that escapes your lips. It's funny how well you both know each other. And it's ironic how you picked them out, simply because they reminded you of Quinn: Soft features, lips like white petals, and beautiful from the inside out. You laugh, because she seems to think that she sees those same qualities in you. It's preposterous, but glorious all the same.

"You're gorgeous Quinn. And I don't just mean in the literal sense of the word. You're light, and dark and day for me. Everything in between…. but I'm glad you like them. I spent forever in the flower shop trying to get them just right."

She sighs in front of you and wiggles a bit. You can tell that she's starting to get stiff and tired from sitting up for so long. You disconnect slowly, and shift from behind her, letting her back fall back onto the bed slowly, delicately. Her eyes are already heavy and she groans softly when she finally hits the pillow.

"I'll miss you if you go."

Her voice is heavy too; it's almost husky with the need for sleep. Her stitches and bruises along her face and jaw are all but healed now, and she looks like the Quinn that you remember. You nod your head; she must not know that you'll feel just the same.

"I have a feeling that I'll miss you more."

"Promise?"

You kiss her on the nose, softly. Her eyes have already shut.

"Promise."

March 30th, 10:14am

You flex your jaw a few times, widening it and scrunching your lips. You probably look really weird right now but you don't really give a shit. Your mouth still feels really strange…and you really need to brush your teeth you realize. Running your tongue along your lips and teeth is almost weird now, you feel brand new. At least your jaw does. Minus the slight pop that rings in your inner ears now when you flex too wide. The doctor told you yesterday that it's residual, it might never go away, and you think you're okay with that.

"Stop doing that loser, it's giving me the creeps."

Santana will never change apparently and you glare at her. At the moment you don't really want to retaliate the negative sentiments since she's currently the one holding you up by the waist, along with your newly assigned physical therapist, Martha. They've got you out of the bed, and you're sweaty, but the popping of your freshly freed jaw is a welcome distraction from the exertion of standing up, and moving your legs. They work fine, but your spine isn't all the way there yet, and you need to move your knee, or else your ACL will never recuperate.

It hurts. Like a bitch, and the tears are right there at the corners of your eyelashes, but you pop your jaw over and over again. It's something to hold on to.

"Look at that, chica. You're like, moving and shit."

You turn your head to bark out something far from nice to Santana, but when you turn your head she's smiling. She's staring at your legs, and the minimal steps that you've taken and she's _beaming._ She looks up at you, and you both stare at one another, you can't help but smile back. And now you're both cheesing like idiots, and the tears have most definitely fallen. Somehow, you don't care.

"I'm _moving_."

Santana nods her head, and breaks your eye-connection to glance somewhere off in the distance. You aren't sure what she's looking at since it would cause too much of a hassle to turn your body and figure it out. But when she looks back at you, her eyes are the softest you've ever seen them. And she smiles at you kindly as she grips steadily onto your waist.

"You're moving."

You never see Rachel standing by the door; you don't see her bright eyes, or her wide Rachel Berry smile. You don't see the fresh bouquet of lilies in her hands, or the happy trails of tears painting her face. You don't see her blush for you. You don't see, not yet. And that's okay.

"Alright Quinn, a few more steps."

You nod your head to Martha, and she holds you along with Santana. And you let the pop of you're perfect jaw hold you steady.

"Okay. Let's do this."

March 30th, 11:23am

Santana left fifteen minutes ago. She shoulder bumped you on the way out of the door while Martha busied herself, helping Quinn back onto the bed. You smiled at her knowingly, and she smirked in return. You realize, that Santana Lopez really isn't so bad.

"Don't be like me."

She whispers as she walks by you. She doesn't turn around as she makes her departure. And you let her go, silently vowing to her wishes.

March 31st, 11:11pm

You're all wrapped up in Quinn. She smells like she used to, like vanilla and apricots, and you inhale her scent from beside her. She's on the sofa, laid out with pillows behind or back on the armrest. You sit on the floor, with your knees tucked up to your chin, and your head resting on her thighs. Your hair fans out in her lap, she plays with it lazily while you hum, watching the Travel Channel.

"Are you glad to be home, Quinn?"

It had been work, getting her home from the hospital that morning, preparing the railings in the bathroom, making the house wheelchair accessible for the past week. But she's here, and it was all worth it.

"Yea…the hospital was stifling."

You nod your head and bite your lip, staring at a TV show that you don't particularly have any interest in, but Quinn likes it. So you keep it.

"What are we Rachel?

The question catches you off guard, and you immediately mute the TV, and turn your head to stare at her. She looks like she's somewhere else, lost in her own world. And you desperately want to bring her back into yours.

"What do you mean?"

She bites her lip, much like you did just a moment ago. You think it looks better on her.

"I know that you're not with Finn anymore. I get that. And I know that we are both on the same page feeling wise. But what do you want us to be? I know what I want, and I just…I want to make sure that it's what you want."

"What do you want Quinn?"

She smiles.

"You."

You smile back, turning off the TV for good this time.

"Good…because I want you too."

She looks at you quizzically a slow smile drawing up on her face. She still looks relatively unsure, and you wish that things could be easier for the both of you sometimes.

"Good…but what about... what about when we leave? When we graduate and go off to different schools. Different states? I don't think I'll be able to make it without you, Rachel."

"New Haven isn't the end of the world, Quinn. I'll visit as often as you'll have me. We'll make it work.

She smiles then, really this time, her entire face lighting up. And you're sure in that moment, as your heart flutters and your chest constricts beautifully, that all of this. You and her, it's nothing less than love. And you feel so light all of a sudden, as if the universe has finally been aligned. And you know, that this is what you've been striving for all along. And you have it, sure as breath on the wind. You've found heaven, and earth and love…all in Quinn Fabray.

"Pinky swear?"

You get up on your feet and kiss her forehead softly.

"Cross my heart."

April 1st, 3:22pm

The Barbeque at Rachel's house is so lively and bright. The sun is out for spring, and some of the trees have already started to bloom. It's a gorgeous Sunday. And you smile at everyone as you sit in your chair by the patio, eating watermelon and drinking iced tea. The boys have started up a game of ultimate Frisbee, and they run around you in circles, whispering things in your ear and twirling your hair. You realize that you missed them, you missed this.

Tina, Mercedes and Kurt took the liberty of decorating your new wheelchair. It has glowing spin-y wheels, and a "Welcome Home" leopard print sign hanging off of the back. You think the leopard print was Kurt's idea, but you're not entirely sure.

Your mom is standing around with the adults by the back porch. Rachel's dads, and Finn's parents, Santana's mom and her little brother…it's nice to see everyone together, you look over and a few of them wave at you. You wave back. It's funny how happy you seem to be now, even despite your own circumstances. You think this is the happiest you've ever been, and maybe there is something skewed in that logic. But you can't change the truth. Puck walks by with Beth in his arms, and he holds her down in your lap so that you can play with her hair and kiss her cheek. She mutters something unintelligible and you think she's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen. You're glad that you made her, and that you're here to remember her.

"Photo! Say Barbra Streisand!"

The sudden sound pulls you up, and there's Rachel. In shorts and one of your old button down t-shirts that she must have stolen from your closet when she visited you on the first day that you came home. She's holding a digital camera and smiling, pointing at you, Beth and Puck. You all smile and beam, and the camera flashes.

"Beautiful."

She whispers as she stares at the resolution. And when she looks up again she's looking directly at you. Her eyes are so soft, and you imagine that the rest of the world has fallen away…except for her. She'll always be there. She'll always be it for you.

"You're it for me, you know that?"

She smiles at you, and your heart flutters. Her eyes are a bit brighter than usual, and a shy blush creeps up her face as she walks toward you.

"Drink your iced tea Quinn, it'll get warm."

She reaches you and leans in closely, Beth is still in your arms and she stares between the two of you softly. And almost like in a dream she leans in and touches both hands to your face, holding you there.

"You're _everything _for me."

And before you can say anything in retaliation her lips are on yours. Soft and firm, she tastes like watermelon. You wonder if you do too. And this is the first kiss you've shared in public around your friends, your family, your peers. This is the first time that you've even shown anything other than what you are. She kisses you in the sun, your daughter in your arms….and it's all alright.

And when you disconnect, she swings behind you, with the biggest smile on her face and pushes your chair around the back lawn. Through the boys ultimate Frisbee game, and the gossip circle taking place on the patio with all of the girls and Kurt. And everyone just smiles at the both of you, and all of the parents wave. And you realize…

That none of it even matters.

It never has.


End file.
